


London's Lovely Sky

by SundayZenith



Category: Mary Poppins (Movies), Mary Poppins Returns - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, five or six chapters maybe?, tags'll update along the way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-10 13:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17426849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SundayZenith/pseuds/SundayZenith
Summary: Jack as an adult is a true child at heart.Jack as a child, well, he was afraid of heights.





	1. Chapter 1

It was part of Jack’s routine now. 

 

He’d follow by Bert, arms full of brushes and chalk and a bag of matches, and often enough for Jack to expect it, though he hadn’t been able to make out a pattern yet (just that it was never on Tuesdays), they would take a different route to the park, one that took them past Cherry Tree Lane. Bert would always stop at Number Seventeen, sometimes to say hello to the housekeeper or the man or the man’s wife who lived there. More often than not, he’d wave up at the window, and Jack would look at the ground, then the door, then, just before he could drag his eyes up to the second story window, they’d start moving again.

 

“They’re awful good kids, Jane and Michael,” Bert would say. “You’d be fast friends, I’m sure of it.” Bert would smile kindly down at Jack, a dusty hand on the back of his head- Jack was small for his age. He would grow, one day, his memories of his father and mother promised that, but for now, the back of his head as all Bert could reach as they walked side by side. “They were wavin’ down at you, Jackie boy, they were.”

 

Bert never suggested that Jack wave back. He knew how Jack was with heights. He was nice like that. 

 

\--

Jack often saw the Banks children from Cherry Tree Lane at the park. He’d be selling matches or playing on Bert’s drums and cymbals (he couldn’t wear them and dance like Bert, being as small as he was. Often, the amusing spectacle of watching his attempts to do so was enough to attract a crowd, at least) and look up to see Jane and Michael Banks spending afternoons chasing their father with a kite string in hand. If the Banks children saw Bert, and Jack knew they kept an eye out for him, they would try and convince him to have a go at the kite. Or Michael Banks, with his dark hair almost turning ginger in the sun, would watch Bert draw, often with a stack of papers and a pencil in hand, trying to learn how to draw like him. Or Jane Banks would laugh a sweet, soft laugh, taking Bert’s hand, and that would be enough to start Bert, the Banks family, sometimes the entire park, and even Jack himself dancing.

 

It was hard not to like the Banks children, even if they weren’t as magnetic as Bert. Everybody wanted them to be happy, and when they were, that was enough to make you happy.

 

They weren’t in the park that day, however. It was a shame, too, given how windy it was- flying a kite was about all you could do. Sure, in this weather, Bert could often dance like the windy was carrying him, though you wouldn’t catch Jack joining him- the wind stood enough chance to carry him away even with his two feet planted firmly on the ground. A dance would likely send him flying, and the thought was enough to leave Jack dizzy and sick.

 

He was trying to sell off the matches he had in hand, but everyone had their heads tucked into their coats and were to busy grasping at their hats to look down. Jack’s own hat had nearly flown off twice, and he had settled for holding it under his arm for the time. His voice was being drowned out by the wind’s howl. 

 

He slumped, and looked down at his dirty shoes- he would occasionally work as a shoe shine when the matches wouldn’t sell, but never saw the use in maintaining his own. Maybe he should call it a day, it might rain later anyway, and he and Bert should get some sleep before having to stay up all night working on chimneys. 

 

“Bert?” he called. “Bert, we should go!” No response. Jack looked up.

 

Bert often said of his apprentice, “He’ll be a regular Jack-of-all-trades, jus’ watch. That’s why ‘e’s got the name, it’s all ‘e needs to get started.”

 

Jack often thought to himself that he was a “Jack” because he was meant to be _ Jack Jones _ in life. He was certainly all alone now.

 

“Bert! Bert we gotta go, the wind’ll blow in a storm an’ we’ll get caught! C’mon, where’d you go off t-” Jack was cut off by a particularly strong gust, stumbling, and ducked and covered his face from it, dropping the match boxes in his hands. He spared a moment to look down at his now empty fingers. “Wait,” he said, looking in the direction the wind was blowing. “Wait! Jus’ a minute, don’t go on me, too.” He began running, looking for where they had gone.

 

“Don’ go jus’ yet, no one’s bought you! Now, see, you can’ jus’ go flying off withou’ me, that’s jus’ not fair of y-” he fell. Jack ripped up a clump of grass and watched it fly off, too, disappearing without a trace. “Oh, what am I doin’,” he said to himself. “Like a buncha matches would hear me and come back.”

 

“Right you are about that, Jack,” an unfamiliar voice said from behind him. Jack jumped, and scrambled around, squinting in the wind. “Talking to matches, really- it’s just silly enough to wait around for something you’ve lost to turn up again, isn’t it?”

 

There was a women, an angel, perhaps, dressed in a blue overcoat, floating towards him. In one hand, she held onto an umbrella. On her other arm, a purse was hanging at the crook of her elbow. In her gloved hand, between her pointer and thumb, she was holding something too tiny to be seen, even when his vision wasn’t going double like it was now, but he knew it was one of his match boxes.

 

Jack stumbled back, eyes locked on her. He.had to sit down. 

 

“Jack, there you’ve run off t-,” another voice gasped from behind him, this one familiar. Bert skidded to a halt beside him, a hand held out to the women. She shifted the matches into her bag and took Bert’s hand, landing gracefully before them. “As I live and breath…”

 

“Bert,” she said, sparing him a smile that was little more than a quirk at the corners of her lips.

 

Bert raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, and looked at her as if he had seen her every day of his life and as if he hadn’t laid eyes on her for decades. “Somehow I knew you’d show up for this’un eventually.”

 

“Of course- Jack,” she gestured suddenly to Jack with her umbrella before tucking it under her arm, “It isn’t polite to stare, you should know that- if there’s one thing Bert was always good at,” she sent Bert another barely there smile, this one smaller, yet no less _ fond _ , “it’s minding his manners. I would have hoped he’d have passed them along. Oh and just look at the state of you down there.” Bert helped him up.

 

She began searching through her bag, passing Bert keys, three pocket watches, a thick storybook, a handful of feathers, what looked like the hands of a grandfather clock, a step ladder, and a bottle of unplaceable liquid before pulling out a few familiar match boxes.

 

“ _ Honestly _ Jack,” she said with the long suffering sigh of someone who had said these exact words many times to the same person, “ _ Hold on _ to the things you’re tasked with."

 

She returned to him the match boxes, and with them, Jack’s voice.

 

“Y-you were  _ flying _ ,” Jack jerked back, nearly dropping the matches again. He did the only thing he could think of: he hid behind Bert’s legs. “She was flying! I saw her- how were you-did she- who- waithowd’youevenknowmy _ name _ ?! Bert, she  _ knew  _ my  _ name _ \- she knew you- Bert, who _ is _ she?”

 

He peeked out from behind Bert. The woman raised a single eyebrow, looking almost amused. She was, Jack realized, beautiful. Almost otherworldly, yet homely. She seemed like a hardened iron queen, and at the same time like she could easily spend her afternoons scrubbing dirt from boots. She reminded him of his mother, Jack realized with a jolt, even though, from first glance to full investigation, they were nothing alike.

 

She finally said, “you’ve been filling his head with stories, haven’t you, Bert? ‘Flying women,’  _ honestly _ ?”

 

Bert laughed at this. “Jack, this” he said, “is Mary Poppins.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mary Poppins planned on staying around until “the sun rose. Whenever that is.”

 

The sun was just about to set, and Mary Poppins settled in to follow as they set about to prepare for their chimney sweeping. In fact, she was leading them through a supposed shortcut, cutting through the park grass. Bert seemed positively delighted to have her along, but Jack wasn’t sure what to make of her. Bert liked her, and Jack trusted Bert. Yet she had  _ flown _ on the _ wind _ , he saw her, and yet she was insistent he was being ridiculous- as if he would make something like that up. In Jack’s opinion, _ flying _ seemed a little too close to  _ falling _ , and therefore he wanted nothing to do with the thought of it.

 

He kept his eyes firmly on his feet, just to make sure they didn’t lift up off the ground. Despite this, he kept stumbling over rocks and grass- Jack was never graceful, and likely never would be he suspected, even if he did dance. The wind had died down after Mary Poppins’s arrives, but it was still going strong. It finally blew his hat out of his hands.

 

“Oh Jack,” Mary Poppins sighed, and Jack felt an uncharacteristic spark of annoyance, and that set him off running after it. She would probably start lecturing him again if he hadn’t- she had introduced herself as a nanny once he had come out from behind Bert’s legs- specifically his, for the time being, until “he finally got his feet under him”.

 

“But I’ve got an apprenticeship,” he had pointed out. “Ma’am,” he added, remembering her comment about manners- he wasn’t any surer about her then than he was now, but he couldn’t let her thinking poorly of Bert because of him, “I work now, and I ‘ave Bert, and we can’t really employ a nanny, see, nannies are like us street workers, we’re th’ same, we can’t work for each other like.”

 

“Well why not?” She had asked.

 

“Because we’re  _ th’ same _ .”

 

“Well, I’m always glad to meet people in London who think so.”

 

_ And what _ , Jack asked himself as he chased after the hat,  _ am I supposed to say to that? _

 

The hat snagged on a branch long enough for him the almost catch up only to fly off again. It snagged on another branch, then another, until it blew up into an impossibly tall tree and disappeared. Jack had to crane his neck to look that high, and he really didn’t want to.

 

“Bert?” Jack called again. No response, again. Jack looked around and realized how unfamiliar these woods seemed. 

 

If he thought he was alone before, it was nothing compared to now.

 

“Oh no,” he said, because what else could he say? 

 

“‘Oh no’ is right,” Jane Banks said, except it wasn’t Jane Banks. Jack looked at a low hanging branch near him, full of cherry blossoms of all things, even though this time of year they shouldn’t be blooming. Or talking, ever, expect on was. The cherry blossom with Jane Banks’s voice turned to him sorrowfully. 

 

“My kite is stuck up there,” she explained, “and I’m stuck down here. It’s not much fun, being stuck.”

 

Jack was stuck between saying “me too” and “have I gone off my rocker or is a cherry blossom talking to me,” and what came out was “Too rocky blossom.”

 

She giggled, and even if it wasn’t Jane Banks her laugh was still sweet and soft. “That’s one way of putting it.”

 

“I- I lost my hat.”

 

“Oh! Tell you what!” she said. “Can’t you help me, please? You’re so much bigger than I am, and can reach so much farther. If you get my kite back, I’ll keep my eyes out for your hat.”

 

“I-”

 

“Please. My eyes are  _ really _ good.”

 

“Well, Jack,” Mary Poppins suddenly appeared next to him, wearing a dress that seemed to be made of flowers and a hat made of leaves. “She did ask nicely, and it is always important to help those in need, though it is your choice as they say.”

 

“Oh.” Jack realized, blinking at her sudden change of outfit,“This is jus’ a dream, isn’t it?” He had been feeling awful  _ unreal _ around the edges.

 

“Oh I’m sure it is,” Mary Poppins said. “Nonsense, absolute nonsense, dreams are, don’t you think? Can you really imagine the use of dreaming of traveling the world, or dreaming of writing a book, or dreaming of making friends with those silly Banks children. Dreams, who needs them, right, Jack?”

 

Jack _ really  _ wasn’t sure he liked her.

 

He turned to find the cherry blossom was closer than she was a moment ago, and so much bigger, too. As big as him, in fact, and even with how small he was that was a considerable feat. The ground, Jack realized, was a lot thinner, in fact. 

 

He had thought he was standing on the tree’s roots, he was sure he had been moments ago. Now, he realized, he was instead standing on a thin, fragile branch. His clothes, warm and dirty and practical, were gone, too, and in their place were an unfamiliar leafy waistcoat over a silky petal shirt and leafy shorts.

 

He was far from the ground, and he knew if he fell, he would die.

 

“Jus’ a dream,” he whispered. He was getting dizzy again. “Jus’ a little night terror, Bert’ll wake you any mo’ now. Jus’- jus’ a-”

 

“Jack,” Mary said, and her voice, which he initially though cold yet somehow warm, was now grounding. “Miss Blossom here would really like your help. Let’s not dottle if you plan on helping her.”

 

Jack, despite being both a chimney sweep’s apprentice and the son of someone who had been a sweep in life, wasn’t actually a chimney sweep himself. He knew sweeps were traditionally children- had met a handful who had been sweeps since they were his age, in fact- and him being on the small side would give him an automatic advantage. The woman his mother had worked as a maid for had even suggested more than once he become a sweep. Nearly every sweep he’s ever met, however, has been of the firm opinion that it was no life for a child. 

 

Instead, Jack would follow along Bert from the ground, typically accompanied by another sweep or occasionally a friendly lamp lighter, listening for a whistle. If he heard one, he’d run to the house it came from and knocked the door until a maid or nanny or especially disgruntled adult in a bathrobe opened the door, then he’d run past them and stick a pole up the fireplace where a sweep had gotten stuck. Most of the time, the sweep would be able to crawl back out on the roof, though every now and then one would fall down nearly on top of him and sending soot flying everywhere. Often, Jack and the rescued sweep would be chased out by whomever had let him in, unable to hold back giggles in the chase, though Jack always tried to return later to help clean up the mess.

 

Jack suspected most of those sweeps got stuck on purpose, simply to give him something to do.

 

He didn’t have a stick or broom now. Mary, as if sensing his thoughts (which, he supposed, she could do- if this was a dream, which is most certainly had to be, then she was his thoughts), reached into her purse and pulled out a box of matches, which now stood almost as tall as he did. “Must have forgotten to return this one,” she said, a gleam in her eye suggesting she would no sooner forget anything than she would admit to secretly having wings. Jack took one of the matches.

 

“Alrigh’y,” he said, turning back to Miss Blossom. He was electing to ignore the unreal, foggy feeling that had settled in on him. “Where'd your kite get stuck at?”

 

Several other cherry blossoms perked up and were watching them openly.

 

“Odd little bud, isn’t he?” one said.

 

“I certainly wouldn’t want thorns like _ that _ ,” another said, gesturing at his hands.

 

“Doesn’t seem in a hurry to bloom, that one.”

 

“Oh hush, look who he’s with! It’s  _ Mary Poppins _ \- he’ll be blossoming in no time around her.”

 

“Up _ there _ ,” Miss Blossom said, and Jack wanted to wince at how high above him she had gestered.

 

“I don’t suppose,” he said to Mary Poppins, “you couldn’t just fly up there and get it yourself?”

 

She gave him that small smile. “Of course not.”

 

“Righ’,” he said more to himself, waving a match above him in an attempt to catch on of the higher branches (“Careful with that!” a rather rotted cherry said. “Last thing we need is the likes of you burning us down!”) “Jus’ dream, and if you fall, you’ll wake up.”

 

He snagged a branch, pulled it down, and was sprung up almost as soon as he wrapped his fingers around it. He had almost dropped the match. “Or you could fall forever.” His voice had pitched up, and he wrapped all four limbs around the branch, eyes shut.

 

“Oh, forever only lasts as long as a dream lets it,” Mary said, somewhat unhelpfully in Jack’s opinion. “Come on, Jack. We’ve got you.”

 

He peeked one eye open to see her standing above, hand outstretched. Not having much choice, he reluctantly untangled one hand from the branch and took hers. Then, something touched his back.

 

With a yelp, he lunged forward to her. He skirt was too slippery to properly grab onto, so he settled for wrapping himself around her legs. She huffed down at him, “Well, if you gripped onto what’s yours like you are to me now, you’d never drop another match again.”

 

“Sorry ‘bout that, little bud,” one of the blossoms said below. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

 

Jack tore himself away from her in embarrassment. He nearly missed his footing.

 

Mary Poppins laughed- actually laughed!- and took his hands again. “Steady, Jack. My, what Bert would say if he saw you now.”

 

Jack would have scowled at her if there weren’t suddenly three of her holding on to him. “Is it possible,” he asked airily, “to pass out in a dream?”

 

“Is it?”

 

“You-” Jack took a breath, deep enough that it stung, “You don’t do much in th’ way of explaining, huh?”

 

She gave him another barely there smile. “Now you’re starting to catch on.”

 

“Righ’,” Jack held onto her with one hand, the other with the match reaching forward. He desperately did not want to fall, dream or not.

 

“One foot in front of the other, Jack,” she said. He shakily did what she said, mainly because he couldn’t do anything else. “There you go, already on your thousand step journey.”

 

Jack groaned at the thought, touching the bark of the trunk.

 

\--

Jack looped his way up around the trunk of the tree slowly. The other cherries and blossoms gave their support, not that he heard it over his beating heart.

 

Everytime he stumbled and nearly fell, Mary Poppins and the blossoms near by were there to catch him. 

 

“Nearly there, little bud!” Miss Blossom would call from below, her voice growing more and more distant. He’d been “nearly there” for about three branches. This time, however, when he notched his head to look at the next branch up, he saw it: A leaf, nearly half his size with a strand of spider’s web as the string. The kite.

 

And it was currently caught at the very end of the branch.

 

Jack turned, ready to say as many apologies as he could, to Miss Blossom for not rescuing the kite, for all the cherries and blossoms who had shouted encouragements, and even for Mary Poppins, along with the blossoms who had been near enough to help, for catching him, and for taking his hand.

 

For being a clumsy coward. He could admit it.

 

For letting Bert and the sweeps down.

 

The woman Jack’s mother was a maid for didn’t have much patience- if he dropped a lamp or ran into the grandfather clock, she would snap at him, once even pinching his ear (Bert’s own father, Jack knew, had a short temper, though he often went for Bert’s nose- Jack was eternally grateful the woman hadn’t gone for Jack’s nose- it was growing in on the beaky side, and he didn’t want it to be crooked as well), and his mother had more than once chased Jack out of the little house she worked at or the tiny flat above it that they shared. People only had so much patience- the woman, his own mother, even the sweeps would reach their limit and realize he wasn’t worth their care and protection. He should be made a sweep, and then he’d be letting more people down because be was a clumsy coward.

 

Jack turned, then stopped, having no one to turn towards- Mary Poppins was chatting with a newly ripe cherry several branches below, and everyone else was scattered all around him. So he opened his mouth. “I’m- wai’.” Something dawned on him.

 

Mary Poppins was several branches below him because he hadn’t stumbled for several branches.

 

“Now jus’ wait a mo’,” he said to himself. “She’s been _ popping in  _ every time I nearly killed myself up here, hasn’ she?  _ That’s _ what she does. If she-  _ and if Bert _ \- Bert trusts her enough to get us lost….” His thoughts were only half formed, but they were undeniably taking the form of the branch before him. “Unless she’s given up on me already-”

 

“You stuck, little bud?” one of the blossoms said from above his head.

 

“Of course not,” Mary Poppins jumped in from below. “He’s just taking some time, and since none of you seem to be using yours, wasting it away waiting around for someone to help you-” Jack sensed some awkward shuffling from all around him. They could have worked together together to get the kite back for Miss Blossom.

 

He didn’t bother to wait to hear the end of Mary Poppins’s sentence. Holding his match horizontally like he knew the sweeps did when walking on wires or thin edges of buildings like tightrope walkers, he took one step away from the trunk. Then another.

 

Then another, eye’s trained not on his feet but the kite above- the blossoms had worked together to catch him before. Then another, the kite coming closer- they saw how clumsy he was. Then another- why didn’t they just call it quits, admit they had been lazy, and then left him wait out the dream while safely clutching a branch closer to the ground?

 

The kite wasn’t forever away, he realized, interrupting his train of thoughts. It wasn’t even a thousand steps away. It was right above him.

 

Holding his breath, the branch sagging somewhat below his weight, Jack poked the match up. He tipped dangerously back.

 

Pinwheeling his free arm forward- everyone was hold their breaths, he knew it- he tucked one foot under a small splinter and stood up as tall as he could. He swung the match again. He nearly fell forward.

 

Still holding the match above him, he crouched and grabbed the branch, waiting for his stomach to stop flipping, the branch to stop moving, and the white dots and three dancing kites to go away. He shut his eyes tight, so tight he may never open them again.

 

“ _ We  _ can’t hold your hand for this, Jack,” Mary Poppins said, her voice soft yet still managing to carry up to his ringing, foggy ears. “ _ But  _ we are here to catch you.”

 

_ We _ . She didn’t mean the flowers, he somehow knew.  _ We _ . The sweeps. Bert and Mary.

 

Jack inhaled. Exhaled. Stood. He kept his eyes on the kite, and slowly pushed it up with his match. He had freed it somewhat, the tail still caught. Jack reached up and grabbed what bit of the kite he could reach. Already there was a cheer, though it was quickly hushed. Then he swatted the match at the tail, brushing it accidentally against the branch itself.

 

Match caught fire.

 

Jack shrieked and fell back.

 

“Little Bud!”

 

“What did I say about being careful with that thing!”

 

“My kite’s not worth that!”

 

Jack felt like he was falling, falling forever. Then the match burnt his hand.

 

His eyes shot open, and he realized he was hanging upside down, his foot still caught on the splinter. He waved out the fire, which thankfully had only burned the skin between his thumb and pointer finger instead of him clothes, though it stung badly.

 

Mary Poppins flew up on her umbrella, taking his hand and rightining him as she did. The blossoms and cherries were cheering for him, loudly and long, and Jack forgot everything for a moment- fear, anger, annoyance- and held the kite up in triumph. He handed it to a blossom, who handed it to another one, passing it on and on until it reached Miss Blossom.

 

“Thank you!” she cried, “Oh, thank you, thank you, you have no idea what my kite means to me- oh! Your hat! Is it that thing right above you?”

 

Jack, in his jubilation, momentarily forgot to feel dizzy when he looked up, and sure enough it was.

 

He was suddenly lightheaded, and was bitterly disappointed with himself at that. He had the attention of the entire tree, he couldn’t be sick right now.

 

Taking aim, Jack threw the match at the hat, which was luckily only resting on some leaves.

 

It hit, and after swinging for a single moment, the hat began falling towards him.

It was in that moment that Jack realized that the hat hadn’t changed with him, still big enough to hold a dozen of him in his current state, and still have room for many more. Jack threw himself at Mary Poppins and waited for impact.

 

\--

Impact never came. 

 

Instead, he heard an amused voice saying: “-waiting until he had his feet under him before whisking him away, Bert?”  _ Mary _ .

 

“Well, it would prob’ly do the lad good to see Puerto Rico, where ‘is familt’s from, and maybe America, too- and he’d love-”  _ Bert _ .

 

“Bert!” Jack tore himself away from Mary’s lap, where he had been laying, and threw himself at Bert. “Oh, I jus’ had the worst nightmare, you wouldn’ believe- okay it wasn tha’ scary if you think about it- I was stuck high in this tree, and these flowers, see, I was their size and one of them- she sounded jus’ like Jane Banks- lost a kite and I was the only one would could get it accordin’ to them, which I don’t believe now, you know. I was just the only one who could have done it on my own, but-” Jack’s voice went soft “-but I wasn’t able to do it on my own-”

 

“Jane Banks? A flower?” Mary said from behind him, “Oh she’s a sweet girl, sure, but if you’ve ever seen the state of her room, you would _ not _ think she was a flower.”

 

Jack whipped around, and sure enough Mary Poppins was sitting there before him. She hadn’t been a dream afterall. “But. But you were flying-”

 

But, he interrupted himself, there she is, plain as day. _ If her flying wasn’t part of the dream…. _ And his hand- the skin between his thumb and pointer finger certainly  _ hurt _ , he realized.

 

Big Ben chimed the hour- eight in the morning. Well after sunrise.

 

Jack’s head spun with questions- was it actually a dream or not? Bert had had him sleep at nights instead of patrolling, though they had learned early on that Jack was more night owl than not, and Jack couldn’t remember falling asleep at all. And why did his hand hurt? And whether or not it had been a dream at all, how had Mary Poppins been able to bleeding  _ fly _ ?

 

And why was Mary Poppins still here?

 

Instead, she stood, brushed her skirt off, and said over her shoulder, “Come on, you two. Even jack-of-alls need to eat.”

 

Bert stood as well, smiling that same smile from before- the starstruck look of familiarity yet unfamiliarity- and said to Jack, “We better not doddle. You know,” he dropped to his knee, voice going low, “I was jus’ talking to her about how she whisked you away on an adventure without me. I’ll be there on the next’un though, you can bet on that!”

 

Jack stood. He honestly didn’t know what to think of Mary Poppins. He didn’t know what to think at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: I collect match boxes. Granted, I only have one, and I only collect them because when my brother-in-law was showing me how to light a grill, he saw the way I saw looking at the matches and asked if I collected them, and if I wanted the box. I couldn't not say yes.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack followed Mary Poppins to the marketplace, trying to keep up with her long, even steps. She always slowed down whenever the distance between them widened- something Jack wasn’t always aware of at first, as he had been trying to watch both his feet and her feet to match their strides, though he grew tired of watching his feet stumble over each other, especially when he remembered how, dream or not, when he had been walking out on that thin branch last night with his eyes trained on the kite and his mind away from his feet, he hadn’t stumbled at all.

 

Bert had sent Jack along with Mary, saying with a wink that he’d have a surprise for them when they got back.

 

Jack buried his unburnt hand in his pocket, feeling for his match boxes- the marketplace was bustling with people, it would be a waste to not try and make a sale. Part of him wished he had carried his shoe shine polish on him as well. It had been a while since he had had a good crowd like this. In fact, he realized, suddenly feeling uneasy, he hadn’t been in a crowd this size since before he had become Bert’s apprentice.

 

Somebody bumped into him, then somebody else. He accidentally stepped on someone’s foot and after attempting to shout “Sorry!” over his shoulders, Jack realized he couldn’t see Mary.

 

He turned slowly, scanning for her, and caught sight of her coat at last.

 

Pushing through the crowd and sliding under a ladder carried between two lamp lighters, Jack reached out to her- to grab the back or her coat long enough to make her slow down or to take her hand and hold on, he wasn’t sure- when a large hand wrapped itself around his wrist and jerked him back.

 

Jack let out a startled yelp. When another hand grabbed the back of his shirt collar, he drew in a breath to scream.

 

“Oh, don’t you even think about playing victim, boy,” an exasperated voice said. Jack looked up an the man the hands and voice belonged to. The man was wearing a suit, with a briefcase at his feet, and looked at Jack with a mix of annoyance and disgust to strong, Jack almost flinched at it. “Just who do you think you are, anyway, going around and trying to pickpocket defenseless ladies, huh?” 

 

“Funny,” Mary suddenly appeared behind Jack, removing the man’s hands as the man’s words sunk in, “I was about to ask you who you think  _ you _ are, going around and snatching children.”

 

Mary Poppins put her hands firmly on Jack’s shoulders and held him close. He leaned against her, awkwardly rubbing his wrist- the man hand grabbed his unburnt hand, and while his burnt hand hadn’t even been burnt badly, Bert had still insisted on wrapping it in a wet cloth for the time being, and Jack hadn’t taken it off yet.  _ He thought I… _

 

Jack was small, anyone could see that, and, dream or not, he had been much smaller last night. But never before has he  _ felt _ as small as he did then.

 

“Only little thieves,” the man defended, wiping his hands on a handkerchief. “He was about to reach into your purse, I could see it on his face- mean looking little thing, isn’t he?”

 

Jack suddenly wished he had brought his hat. He had left it with Bert, no to keen on wearing it after it had nearly crushed him to death, dream or no. Maybe if he had worn it, had shined his shoes once in a while, too, the man might not think he was a pickpocket- little things like that could make a world of difference, he knew. People often thought higher of the Sweeps when they weren’t covered in soot. At the very least, he could have pulled the hat down over his eyes.

 

As if sensing his thoughts, Mary Poppins put one of hands on his hair, ruffling it lightly.

 

“Well, I’d say I know a mean looking face when I see one,” Mary said coldly, “and I’d say I’m looking at one right now in face, if I believed in that sort of thing.”

 

The man actually smiled at that. “Naive, aren’t we, ma’am? Not that that’s a bad trait to have, oh no, just that it’s one you should keep at home when you go out in public. You really could get robbed, you know. Just a dose of reality.” 

 

People around them would glance in their direction for a split second before pointedly turning their gazes away.

 

“My charges,” Jack could hear the icey smile in Mary’s voice, “like this one here, in fact, often carry with them enough doses of reality to drown an Olympic swimmer.”

 

“Your-  _ charge _ ?” The man chuckled, “Well, that’s a bit backwards, isn’t it? A good Englishwoman nannying a little Spanish boy?”

 

“Many things in life are backwards, I’ve found. You, for example. You may wish to turn around.”

 

“What’s tha-” The man was knocked over by a ladder striking him over the head. One of the lamp lighters from earlier, holding the ladder over his shoulder, shouted an apology, not looking sorry at all. The other one, walking up with their bike, wasn’t bothering to hide his laughter.

 

“Real character, that’un,” he said, helping the other one balance the ladder on the back of the bike.

 

“Jack?” Mary’s voice was soft.

 

Jack realized he would have rather talked about anything else in the world than what the man had said, and it must have shown on his face.

 

“Later, then…” was all she said. She squeezed his shoulders.

 

Maybe that’s why Mary Poppins never answers any questions- maybe she just doesn’t want to talk about about anything that was happening.

 

Jack let himself be led away by Mary.

 

\--

The woman his mother had worked as a maid for would often say to her, “The kindest thing you’ve done for that boy is raise him English.” Jack could never quite place why that made him uncomfortable, but it had. 

 

Jack’s father, who worked nights and slept during the day, had only heard her say this once, and that had resulted in a few questions, then a shared rant, and finally a fight between him and Jack’s mother on his way out for work.

 

“ _ I want him to be proud to be Puerto Rican! _ ” His father had shouted before shutting the door behind him.

 

She opened the door and cried after him, “ _ And I want him to have a  _ chance  _ out  _ there _! _ ”

 

Jack looked down at his feet, lost in the memory, and nearly tripped over them when Mary Poppins abruptly stopped. 

 

He looked up and met the gaze of a lion statue- they had stopped at the steps of the library.

 

“What’re we doing here?” He asked before remembering Mary Poppins’s habit of not answering questions.

 

Miraculously, she did answer, “I have a quick errand to run- an aunt of mine is always forgetting to return her books.”

 

She began walking briskly up the step, lightly pushing Jack along with her- she hadn’t taken her hand from his shoulder the entire walk.

 

Jack hadn’t ever been inside the library since before he became Bert’s apprentice. He remembered a black teenaged boy who would always sit in the back, surrounded by law books. He was occasionally accompanied by a white young man who always looked discouraged or tired. Jack couldn’t remember either of their names, or if they had introduced themselves to him at all, but the younger one was always polite. 

 

They were studying to be lawyers, he remembered. He silently hoped the younger one wouldn’t ever cross paths with the man from earlier.

 

“Go pick something out you like, Jack,” Mary Poppins said, stopping at the front desk. “Don’t take too long, though, I should only be a minute and Bert is waiting for us.”

 

Jack blinked in surprise. “I haven’ got a ticket.”

 

“You don’t have to check a book out to  _ enjoy  _ it.”

 

Jack hesitated, part of him debating if he should argue with her logic, before deciding it wouldn’t amount to anything and wandering away.

 

He automatically followed the path to were the two aspiring lawyer often sat, not passing anyone on his way.

 

He used to spend hours here on rainy afternoons and evenings, when he had been shooed out of the house and couldn’t find any shoes to shine. He would sometimes curl up behind a bookshelf near the aspiring lawyers and fall a sleep.

 

Jack didn’t find either aspiring lawyer. Or the table they used to sit at. Or even the back of the library- all he saw was row upon row upon row of books.

 

He turned a corner and was met with a tall unfamiliar bookshelf. The library must have been rearranged since he last visited. He backtracked to the last familiar shelf and turned the other corner. Another unfamiliar shelf.

 

The library was so much bigger than before, he realized.

Jack froze, and pulled out book on the nearest shelf, just to make sure he hadn’t shrunk again.

 

The book was thick, but it was the same size any book should be. Jack breathed a sigh relief and opened to a random page. A picture of a penguin stared back at him.

 

Jack flipped through the book and found various other pictures of birds. He closed the book- the cover showed a picture of a tree.

 

Jack didn’t like birds much- they made him nervous- but he knew Bert loved them, and birds in turn seemed to love Bert back, much to Jack’s horror. Bert especially seemed to like penguins, often adding them in the background of his chalk portraits- or insisting they were in the background, just hiding behind the trees or standing on the other side of the buildings.

 

Bert often asked if there was anywhere Jack wanted to go, though he hadn’t felt like going out much since he became Bert’s apprentice. It surprised Jack to realize he hadn’t gone anywhere at all unless it was to work- maybe the library hadn’t changed at all, and he simply forgot what it looked like in his time away- and Bert hadn’t gone out much either, choosing to say with his apprentice.

 

Bert used to travel the world, Jack knew. He would often tell Jack stories of his travels and vowed to take Jack along with him one day. Jack had been Bert’s apprentice just over a year, he must be itching to do something, Jack realized. Maybe that’s why Mary was here, so he had someone to look after Jack while he went on another adventure. 

 

Jack suddenly felt abandoned, truly left on his  _ Jack Jones _ . He shook the thought away as hard as he could- Bert wouldn’t just up and leave him with a complete stranger- though Mary Poppins wasn’t a stranger to Bert, Jack remembered.

 

Jack tucked the book under his arm, deciding to show it to Bert later. Maybe he could act excited, that would make Bert happy. He turned and marched back the way he came, wanting to get back to the park as soon as possible, if only to reassure himself that Bert wouldn’t do anything like leave him behind.

 

He was met with another unfamiliar bookshelf, and a strange noise- a fast pattering.

 

Jack saw something from the corner of his eye, something in gray attire, something small- smaller than he was, it seemed, not that Jack cared. Clutching the book to his chest, Jack ran in the opposite direction of the thing.

 

He didn’t bother keeping track of where he was running- no point, he told himself. The library had changed, grown, and was continuing to grow. Where he was three steps ago might be on the other side of the world, for all he knew. Instead, he inhaled as much breath as he could while running and cried out, “ _ Mary Poppins _ !”

 

Even if she didn’t hear, a librarian might- they always came running if you spoke to loudly, and he was speaking as loudly as he could.

 

“Mary, we should  _ go _ now! Bert’s prob’ly been waitin’ a long time, now! Mary Poppins, where’d you go off to?” The words felt familiar to him.

 

He turned down another row of shelves and saw a wall with a window. The lion statue, placed at the library’s entrance he remembered, sat with it’s back to him. 

 

The thing, he realized, was chasing him- he just barely heard the quick  _ patter-patter _ over his breath.

 

Jack moved to throw the book at the window, intending to break it and find his way back to the park himself. The man from earlier suddenly sprang to mind. He stopped himself.

 

You weren’t supposed to take books from the library if you haven’t got a library ticket, he knew. Even if he gave it right back after, throwing the book through the window might be seen as theft as well as property damage.

 

He felt sick at the thought of proving the man from earlier right.

 

Suddenly dizzy with fear- of the man’s words or of the thing after him, he wasn’t sure- Jack stood on his toes to touch the glass- maybe the library’s entrance was right in from of him and he just couldn’t see it, he hoped somewhat hysterically.

 

The statue lion _ moved _ . It turned sharply to look over its shoulder at him.

 

A shout of surprise caught in his throat, Jack made a split second decision and, one handedly, began climbing his way up the bookshelf to his right.

 

He placed the bird book on the top of the shelf and attempted to grip it with his now free hand. His hand, the one wrapped in the handkerchief, slipped. He tore it off with his teeth and pulled his way up.

 

Not having the courage to stand just yet, Jack got to his knees and looked out onto a maze of bookshelves. He could see the other three walls, but they were far, and he couldn’t see any tables or desks or door not matter were his gaze flinted to.

 

There was a giggle below him, followed by the sound of a book hitting the floor.

 

Clutching the bird book to his chest again, Jack forced himself to stand. Then, eyes shut, he jumped to the next shelf.

 

He landed, though he didn’t have time to celebrate. The shelf he just jumped from was falling, having been knocked off balance with his jump, and it was falling his way.

 

He jumped again. Then, the shelves falling like dominoes faster than he could jump, he began running on the collapsing shelves.

 

He stumbled, and that was enough to having him falling backwards. “Somebody- Mary-  _ help _ !” He cried. He screwed his eyes shut once more.

 

He didn’t hit the ground. Instead, he found himself in someone’s arms- someone who had their arms full with a purse and an umbrella, it seemed. He was lowered to the ground.

 

He kept his eyes shut for just one more moment, then peeked behind him.

 

Then he whirled around in shock, seeing rows of bookshelves knocked over, books scattered everywhere.

 

He had thought- honestly thought- he’d wake up back at the park or the flat he and Bert currently resided in, like he had this morning, but he was still in the library.

 

The library, which now looked like it was supposed to, save the toppled bookshelves. He even saw the table the aspiring lawyers sat at, though he didn’t see them.

 

Jack tucked the bird book under his arm and crouched down, picking up the two nearest books. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to clean this mess up, but, heart in throat, he knew he needed to before the librarian found out. He was struck dizzy again, this time remembering the woman his mother was a maid for and how she got when he broke something on accident.

 

He hadn’t felt this way in a long time.

 

Mary took the book from his left hand- Travers, he saw, was the author’s name- and huffed an amused laugh. She dropped it in her purse, muttering something about it “not being time yet.”

 

“Let’s see the book you’ve picked out, Jack,” she said, as if the library wasn’t ruin around them.

 

Numbly, Jack held out the bird book. Mary looked at it and smiled an undeniably fond smile at him.

 

“Nicely picked, Jack,” she said. “I had a feeling you’d find something that made you think of Bert. Well,” she handed it back, “like you said, we shouldn’t keep Bert waiting. Open it.”

 

Jack did as she said, and barely cracked open the book when it sprang open all the way. A penguin popped off the page with a “Hello!” and Jack dropped the book. It fluttered, pages and birds flying out an surrounding them. 

 

Jack covered his head, but didn’t close his eyes- he couldn’t look away- though his vision was obscured by pages and feathers.

 

When they cleared, he found himself in a forest with tall trees and set tables.

 

He couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised at his and Mary Poppins’s clothes being different again- he was wearing a bright yellow vest under a gray morning coat, while Mary was wearing a surprisingly subdued, though still beautiful, coat over a dulled red dress, both their outfits having a pattern of feathers on them.

 

“Nothing moves you like a good book, eh?” Jack looked up to see Bert walking toward them- he, too, was wearing a new outfit- a brown coat like Mary’s over a red shirt and white pants.

 

Jack barreled towards him. Bert crouched down and caught Jack in his arms.

 

“How’d you get here?” Jack asked, both relieved to see Bert and ashamed for imagining him leaving Jack behind.

 

Bert pulled a bit of chalk from his pocket and said, “Drew my own path ‘ere.”

 

“So you’re the Jack we’ve heard so much about,” a new voice said. Jack looked up and realized they were also surround by birds, all of them grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was seriously getting out of hand, so I decided to split it up a bit.
> 
> -Apparently before they were called "Library Cards" they were called "Library Tickets"  
> -Jack is dressed as an Adelaide’s warblers, a low flying bird native to Puerto Rico. I couldn't find any sources on what type of bird Mary held on her finger in the '64 film, so I googled Red Chested English Birds and dressed Bert and Mary as Robins


End file.
